Anonymous Mudblood
by Fanfiction Lurker 1
Summary: In Britain, under Voldemort's rule, Muggle-borns need to watch their every step. That's why Hermione Granger only allows herself to be honest with the ones she kills. Implied Torture. Implied Character Death. Mentions of Non-con.


**Anonymous Mudblood**

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Hello, Draco.

How do you like your new accommodations? Granted, it's not exactly Malfoy Manor, but it'll have to do.

Untie you? I don't think so. We'll be having so much fun, you see. Just you and I, with nobody to interrupt.

But where are my manners? Your... _our_ parents raised me better than that. I suppose I need to show you the proper hospitality. This place is known – to the select few who know of it at all – as the Come and Go Room. It's the most special place in all of Hogwarts. It can be filled with whatever you need: books, potions, dummies to practice spells on... or even those lovely tools that seem to fascinate you so much. This place is my sweet little secret. I might just be the only living human being, besides you, that is, who knows it exists.

How do I know? Why, the elves, of course. The forever unappreciated, enslaved house elves told me. They were so open with me, so forthcoming. Why? Because I treated them like the sentient beings they are, that's why.

Still, they are so obstinate, so stubborn, so _annoying_. You wouldn't believe how much time it took me to plant the idea of freedom in their heads. I tried a direct approach once or twice, and was that a spectacular failure! You wouldn't believe how they stood up for you – you, their masters, their tormentors. They're so cute, those elves. So silly. I mean, just look at them. Cuts, welts, burns, bruises and every single mark of abuse you could think of, and what did they do when I tried convincing them that freedom was better? They took your side. They made _excuses_ for you. They just couldn't imagine different lives for themselves. Until I showed them, that is.

What was that? Your father? Oh, please! As far as he's concerned, you're safe and sound at school. And he's half right. You _are_ at school, aren't you? Your father isn't coming to save you, Draco, and I think you know as much.

But what was I talking about? Oh, yes, the house elves. From what I've heard, their living conditions were somewhat better before You-Know-Who took over, but you know what? I don't buy it. In that aspect, the law didn't change much. They were property without rights back then, and they are property without rights today. Mistreating the elves was a social faux pas at best, but no more than that. Even murdering them wasn't punishable. I know, I checked.

Did you know their enslavement is only practiced in Europe? Countries like the USA and Canada have the biggest populations of free elves in the world, and they have actual equal rights! So much more civilized than we are, don't you think?

Anyway, I just had to get my hands on some publications – books, newspapers, and the like – from America to show our elves what they could have. All I had to do was leave some of them lying around, and the dutiful elves just had to clean it up. And you can't really clean something up without looking at it, can you? So they looked, all right. Sometimes they even read them for a bit, before they realized what a dangerous 'heresy' it was. But the information, the _idea_ stayed in their heads. They saw their free brothers and sisters from abroad, living with humans as equals and protected by law. Suffice it to say, it made an impression. The process was slow, but I made progress. I led them to admit, to themselves if not to anyone else, that they actually wanted liberation. Ironically, it also made them my pawns.

But enough about that. It's awfully dark in here, don't you think? Let me just light the candles.

Some high voice you have, brother. You scream so beautifully when you're scared. I see you appreciate my collection. I do apologize for their looks. When I started this, I wasn't as experienced as I am now. My methods of preserving their appearance were less than perfect. In fact, I may need to introduce them.

That over there is your girlfriend, Pansy. The Aurors didn't exactly do a bang up job looking for her. All I had to do was leave some shreds of her clothes in the forest, and they were all too eager to blame the acromantula. I feel a tad guilty about them exterminating the poor spiders, but what can you do?

But I digress. Just look at her. The stuck-up cow always made fun of me, picked on me, laughed at me, tried out hexes on me...but that's all behind us now. I possess certain sentimentality for her. She was my first, and as you know, you don't forget your first time. Again, I must apologize for the way she looks now. I did a real messy job. Lack of experience, you see. Still, it might be an improvement, considering her pug-like face, don't you agree?

My, my! Some foul mouth you've got there! Narcissa... sorry, _mother_ , would be so ashamed. But no matter. I'll have enough time to do something with your mouth—and the rest of your body too, of course—later.

Back to introductions. That over there, as I'm sure you've noticed, is dear old Theo Nott. He didn't do all that much to me, but it's a matter of principle. Theo was my second. This pallor suited him. He begged so sweetly I couldn't resist and put him out of his misery long before I originally intended. It left me feeling...never mind. It's of no consequence.

Next we have your former Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint, and his cronies. They had their fun with me once, a while back. They used Imperius curse, had me take my clothes off, and... well, you get the picture. And then _I_ had my fun with _them_. They apologized in tears when I brought them here. Not at first, of course; it was only when they understood what I was going to do to them...or, rather, make them do to each other, with that wonderful Imperius curse. It must be an interesting thing to wake up to. Just imagine yourself in that situation, tied to the bed and naked, with your best friend all good and ready to rape you as many times as I order it. And I did it to them all—many, many times. Marcus shrieked like a little girl when he was on the receiving end, but as a "giver" he wasn't very vocal. I thought you might want to know.

Yes, out of all of those you see here, they might have been my favorites.

And here we have Ernie. Say hi, Ernie! Do you see his lovely grin? That's right, you don't. He grinned enough when he was alive, especially when he watched an insignificant mudblood like me get pushed around. Sycophantic suck-up! Well, those lips won't smile again, I made sure of that.

How could I? How could I?! Did you seriously just ask me that?! Are you telling me you don't know? No?! Then let's start from the beginning. Everyone likes a good story, right?

I was five when I watched my parents die. You don't know the story, do you? It's not like you care where I came from. Muggle hunting is such a lovely sport, wouldn't you agree? You might be too young to participate, but it's not like you don't know how it works. They gather up some Muggles, stun them, and apparate them to a specially prepared location. Witches and wizards pay the price of the ticket, and the games begin.

And such games they are! From the hunter's perspective it's amazing. You compete over who kills the most, you track them down wherever they're hiding, and if you have the highest kill count, you're the hero of the day! Admirable, isn't it?

I bet you can't wait to try your hand at that, right, _brother_? No, no, don't deny it. You all love it. You _revel_ in it.

Now I'll let you in on the prey's perspective. It's simple really. You run, you hide, but you can't stay hidden forever. Sooner or later some of them find you. Mum and Dad protected me for as long as they could, but McNair and your old man didn't have much of a problem putting them down. It was like swatting a fly to them. But I wasn't as easy as this. I wished to be somewhere else, anywhere else, and voila! I was behind dear old Lucius's back. It wasn't enough to escape, but it was enough to give them a pause.

You know your old man picked me up from the orphanage, right? The special one, the one for all the little mudbloods who manifested magical abilities. We all know how it works from there. Well, I know. You couldn't possibly know, and even if you did, you wouldn't give a damn, would you? Sure you wouldn't. The weaker ones land at the very bottom of the social order, and the stronger ones... All of you see it as such a _great generosity_ to adopt a child like that, don't you? A grand gesture, an act of altruism.

Altruism.

Look back at my years at your home, would you? I remember watching you play with your new toys, and not having any for myself. I remember when I started going to Hogwarts, and I remember how I was punished every time I exceeded your scores.

Do you remember the head of a house elf, hanging on the wall in my room at the Manor? No? I'd be surprised if you did. He was mine, you see. Lucius gave him to me to serve me, but he did so much more! He would always talk about his people, he comforted me when I cried, he listened to me when I needed him to... He was the elf that opened my eyes to their plight.

When I ended up with better grades than you on the final exams in third year, Narcissa took a page out of her family's book. You know the tradition of the Most Ancient, et cetera, House of Black, right? Anyway, I returned home, and surprise! There it was, already waiting for me, mounted on the wall. I'm ashamed to admit I lost my composure completely. I wailed until Lucius cast 'silencio' on the door; I despaired so much over that elf. But I don't grieve him anymore. I've made my peace with it. I know now it doesn't matter. Dobby never really left me. He still talks to me sometimes, you know. Nobody can see him but me. He doesn't look like a ghost. He looks just like he did when he was alive.

He said he'll always be with me. He doesn't blame me at all for his death! He understands why I do all this, and he always cheers me on. He always understands me. He's on my side.

Crazy? It's funny how often I hear it in this room. Cra-zy. Craaa-zy. Crazy. Well, I'm not. I see this country for what it is, and I see _you_ for what you are. All of you.

But let's get back to my exhibition. Here we have Ron Weasley.

Friend? Don't make me laugh. True, he had my back and he made me laugh. He even defended me from the bullies a few times. He liked me, maybe even had a crush on me. I dare say I might have even liked him back, but we could never be friends. Why? Do you even have to ask? Because he was a pureblood, that's why!

So what if his family is connected to the rebellion? They still are what they are, and they can't change it. They were born like this, and they deserve to go down along with the rest of you. You purebloods are vermin, nothing more! It's your people against mine, and your people need to be wiped out. Every last one.

Out of my mind? You're getting repetitive, Draco. Don't you have any better insults? I have to warn you though, I'm more than used to 'mudblood'.

Mudblood.

I keep on hearing it ever since the wizarding world claimed me, but you know what? I'm not ashamed. I embrace my Muggle heritage. You could say I embrace it regularly right here. Don't misunderstand me, I love using spells. We wizards can do so much with just our minds, words, and wands, but I? I like to get my hands dirty sometimes. Primitive? Perhaps, but it's fun.

It's my habit, but I wouldn't call it a bad one. I invite a guest, I enjoy myself, and after all is said and done, I can go back to being the meaningless mudblood everybody wants me to be. It's easy to suck up to you pureblood scum; it's easy to lie when I know there is one place where I can always speak the truth. One place where I don't have to pretend. One audience that will never be able to turn what they've heard against me – a captive audience, one might say. Not laughing? Lousy joke, I know.

Still, maybe I talk too much. Maybe it's time to start the fun, eh? What do you say?

What's that? Begging so soon? I've got to say, I'm disappointed. I expected better from you. And I didn't even cut you yet. But, since we're on the subject, it's time to rectify that.

Oh, don't be such a wuss. That was just one toe; and that, dear brother, is your precious, pure blood. You're so proud of it, aren't you? Why do you turn from it? Don't you want to see it?

I've met a vampire once. I've spoken to him. You have to admit, vampires knew which side to pick. Joining our most beloved monster of a ruler was pretty much the best thing they could have done, and here they are. The Muggles of Britain are their buffet, as long as they keep a low profile. Lucky them, don't you think? Sanguini was the name, or something like that. I asked him if there was a difference in taste between my blood and the 'pure' one. He said that every human has a different flavor, not just us wizards, so he wasn't of much help.

Diffindo!

Such a simple spell, isn't it? Nothing next to the great Avada Kedavra, but I confess I'm not overly fond of that one. It's too clean; there's no blood, and if I can't see the blood then what's the point? In the end, it's all about the blood. I love it, you know. The way it flows... It was yours, and now it's mine. I wonder…will you still qualify as a pureblood when I spill it all? Oh, don't panic. Wrist wounds can bleed quite a lot, but I didn't slice you deep enough to kill.

Did you really just ask me about the photo? You wouldn't be trying to distract me from my current activities, would you? Oh, well. I'll indulge you. We have all night to play. Do you see him? I found out about him a few years back. He was a hero. He caught a murderer, the one who released a monster that killed another student. He got a reward for special services to the school. He was only sixteen, but he still caught a murderer. I found some old press records – you wouldn't believe how hard it was – and I've read all about it.

Just look at him, Draco—you're looking at a half-blood who surpassed the purebloods. Yes, that's right. He was a half-blood and an orphan like me, but he didn't let that stop him. He even had his place in Slytherin. Slytherin, dammit—the land of prejudice! He was a prefect, like you. He studied here long before that filthy bastard You-Know-Who was in power. He was at the top of his class, and he graduated with a full set of 'Outstandings' on his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. I wish... Eh, what's the point?

After school he worked in a shop at Knockturn Alley, but I don't know what happened to him after that. I tried to find out, but I couldn't get any leads. It's as though he just vanished. I like to think he moved away, and that he still lives somewhere abroad. Maybe France? Australia? There are many countries better than this one to live in. Maybe he had a long, happy life. A bright career, a caring family...

But sometimes I think he could have been murdered. The purebloods who knew him at school or at work were probably jealous. Maybe they just couldn't take that he could be smarter, more gifted, more handsome. Maybe they felt he didn't have the right to be, a half-blood like him. Just think about it. All his plans, his dreams, his aspirations destroyed just because one of his parents was a Muggle. Is that what happened to him?

I'll probably never know, as much as I want to. There's something ironic about it all. His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. I usually detest riddles I can't solve, but he's an exception. I don't detest him at all.

But let's get back to the present. Now it's between you and me, dear brother. I've waited a long time to have you here. You'll be the crowned jewel of my collection.

Crucio!

I love that curse. Granted, there's no blood, but nothing can compare to this. All my hate, all my will can be used to make you squirm; it can be transmitted between my mind and your body with one incantation. It's the most efficient form of torture known to man, but it carries a great risk.

The Cruciatus curse stimulates the pain center of the brain. If performed by a particularly motivated caster, it stimulates it to its fullest capacity. That's why you're only supposed to use it for short periods of time. If you overdo it, the victim might end up insane or dead. Just one little vein goes pop in the brain and that's all it takes, but don't worry. I won't do that to you yet. I wouldn't want to lose you too soon.

Oh, don't make such a face. If it's any comfort to you, you won't be the only one to die tonight. Do you remember what I said about the elves here at Hogwarts? I've been working on them for years, and this is the night when it pays off.

What am I talking about? Can't you guess? As you know, the house elves are bound by the spell that forces them to serve wizards. They physically can't break a direct order, and if they try to bypass one, they must punish themselves - and I bet that's all you really know about it, yes? You and pretty much every witch or wizard I've ever met have that problem, but far be it from me to complain about it. In fact, it's a blessing. What do I mean? Don't worry I'll get to that in a minute.

Anyway, this spell is passed on from one generation to another like a genetic disease. It's fascinating, really. One would think it's impossible to counteract a spell as old and powerful as this one, but here's the thing – I did. I've had years to learn how to release an elf from its influence, and now every single one in this castle is as free as their ancestors were before they were forced into slavery. The process is irreversible and it doesn't require clothes. Neat, huh?

The funny thing is, it wasn't even that hard! In fact, it was far easier than the transmutation of a turtle into a pillow, or even brewing a Polyjuice potion. The hard part was molding their minds so that they would accept their freedom. That took me way longer, but it was possible.

I think it speaks volumes about how stupid the Order of the Phoenix is. All this time they had such an army, brimming with hidden potential, just waiting to be unleashed on the Death Eaters, and nobody has ever done it. I bet nobody has even thought about it! Nobody noticed!

And the Death Eaters. Such ignorance! It never even crossed their minds that their faithful servants could become not so faithful, with the right encouragement. Dobby once told me that if a house elf performs his work the right way, he's not seen at all. And a few hours from now, the targets I selected won't notice a thing until it's too late.

Some will die, and some will be controlled with the house elves' own brand of magic. Do you want to know the best part? Most wizards know _nothing_ about that magic. Nothing! To them, an elf is supposed to do his job and that's that. They never concern themselves with the fact that their silly little slaves have powers no lesser than our own, and perhaps even greater. It's like they're blind or something!

Well, their oversight is my gain. I have studied elf magic extensively. I know them. I know how they work, how they think, and what they can do. By the morning you and many, many others will be dead, and Hogwarts will belong to me. And it's only the beginning, as cliché as it may sound.

What else do I have in store? Why, Draco, this part doesn't concern you. I think it's time to wrap up our little chat, wouldn't you agree?

Yes, I was right. You do scream beautifully.

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 **AN:** Many thanks to the amazing and awesome beta, Vicious Ventriloquist, who made this story readable.


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